


A Change for Bertie

by Luthorchickv2



Series: Bertie Anew [1]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Bertie gets out, End game pairing is Jeeves/Wooster, M/M, Spoilers for Comrade Bingo, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11182527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: After the events of Comrade Bingo, Bertie can't stay in London anymore. Drastic changes are made.





	A Change for Bertie

**Author's Note:**

> I was rather upset at Bertie's treatment during Comrade Bingo. Jeeves and Dahlia just stood there as he was hit on the head twice. That really didn't sit well with me and I wrote this in response. My Bertie's a bit more serious but I figure after being whacked on the head twice maybe he would be different.

My new flat was blessedly empty of aunts, females, and Jeeves and for that, I was enormously thankful. I had in fact fled the Metrop and Blightly to enable such distance from said As, fs and Js.

I dropped my bag in the hallway and turned to give the porter helping me with the rest of my luggage a bit of the ready. Home at last.

Home these days was the aforementioned flat, which was in the artsy neighborhood of Greenwich Village in NYC. Slightly shabbier then I was accustomed to, it was the best I could rustle up on my own and was far enough away from the “fashionable sets” that I was unlikely to run into anyone from my former life. The sitting room was just large enough for a desk and sofa and the bedroom barely fit a bed and chest of drawers. But it was home and well, I wasn’t planning on doing much entertaining. 

Why on my own? Where was my stalwart and fish fed valet?

Well, banished from this Wooster's presence. In the course of our last adventure it was made clear to me that Jeeves’ loyalties were no longer to me, that somewhere in the last few years of being in my employ, my wellbeing was no longer his priority.

In the course of helping my aged aunt Dahlia burn paintings both she and Jeeves stood idly by while that pestilence Spode proceeded to whack Bertram over the head, not once but twice even as I said no to such treatment. Everything worked out for my aged A, Jeeves and Spode while I suffered not just the physical pain of being walloped on the head twice but the emotional anguish of knowing that my well-being and wishes were perilously low on both Dahlia’s and Jeeves’ list of priorities. Something had to change.

I lay in bed with a sore head and double vision for two days after we returned to my flat. Jeeves was obsequious enough but there was no hint of apology in his manner, just smug pride. All I could see in my head though was the smile on his face when Spode hit me over the head.

When the pain stopped, and I could think clearly, I came to a conclusion. I did not trust either Dahlia or Jeeves anymore, or in fact, any of my friends.

I waited for Jeeves to leave for the market that afternoon and sat at my desk to make list. It was as if the whack to the head knocked off my blinders. It took some time but in the end, I listed every negative consequences to Bertram as a result of a family or friends request.

It wasn't pretty. Everyone had used me ill and I was tired of it, and angry. Yes, there was the code of the Wooster's but what about every ones code regarding this Wooster? At one time or another, I had ended up engaged, in prison, on an 18 mile bicycle ride and/ or injured, the sore head just the latest.

Jeeves in particular had been cruel. All I could see over and over was his face staring at me as pain exploded in the old Wooster bean.

It's a rummy thing knowing the people who you most about, care not a whit for you. Particularly someone would were in love with. Yes, I loved Jeeves and had for years. Nothing would ever or could ever come of it but that did not lessen the love in this Wooster’s heart.

It took most of the afternoon but in the end, there was only one solution, only one way to protect myself. I needed to leave everything behind. Leave the drones, my relatives and most of all leave Jeeves behind. It was the only way. Jeeves had shown he was not to be trusted. Dahlia and the drones just cared about how I could help them and Agatha just wanted me married off, against my will, I might add.

I could not stay in London without someone finding me so I had to leave, but leave in a way that no one would follow me.

I was lucky enough that Jeeves’ annual holiday was the next month and I set my departure for then. It was tricky making plans without arousing his suspicion but maybe some of his smarts had rubbed off on me. Every day I left the fact saying I was off to the drones but instead would ankle around to my solicitors to make plans. Mr. Adams was sworn to secrecy about my where-about and was kind enough to help orchestrate my escape. We settled on New York for me. It was close enough like London that I shouldn’t feel too homesick and I had been there before so it was a least a little familiar to me. There was some danger running into people I knew but we found a safe enough neighborhood far enough from where I used to toddle about that I wouldn’t run into anyone.

A week before Jeeves was due to leave and I would slip away I stood in my flat questioning both myself and my plans. Jeeves had mostly served me well over the years, keeping me out of trouble and the truth was I did love him. Which made his betrayal even more shattering. I could stay here and be with him and let him use me how he wished or I could leave. See who Bertram Wooster was without Jeeves. And the drones. Everyone was always saying that a wife could make something of me. Maybe it was time to make something of myself. I glanced about my flat and ran my hands over the piano, affixing it all in my mind.

I’d be leaving most of it behind for Jeeves. I decided that despite his recent carelessness with the young master that he deserved something after so many years of service and the flat was basically his anyway. I was leaving it to him with a small sum for severance.

As angry and hurt as I was I did still love home and it made me happy to imagine him living here. Maybe then, he could give up valeting and become Prime Minster or some such, get out of service. Leaving was the right thing to do. I became firm in that conviction. It was time for me to go.

Jeeves didn’t want to leave on his vacation so soon after I had been infirm. Since my plan was contingent on his leaving I worked to persuade him that leaving was the best thing for him and that I’d be fine. He wouldn’t agree until I agreed to go stay with Aunt Dahlia was he was gone. I lied through my teeth and told him I’d head to Brinkley Court as soon as the Drones’ dart tournament was over and would send him a telegram him from the village when I got there.

The night before he left I watched him from the corner of my eye, memorizing the way he went about his duties. He was grace itself and competent and I yearned for him. For a second I thought about abandoning my plans and staying. Except then I would remember him standing there doing nothing as Spode hit me and I would be determined again to leave.

He departed the next morning, off to sunny Spain to fish in the deep and I sent him off with a smile and cheery toodle pip. I was quite convinced that he would be happy to be rid of me. 

Three days later I was on a ship headed to New York. I had briefly detoured to Market Snodsbury to send off a telegram to Jeeves letting him know I had arrived safely. It wasn’t a lie. I had arrived in Market Snodsbury safely, I just had no intention of stay there, leaving directly to South Hampton.

My solicitor had booked my passage second class under a false name as to avoid detection and I spent the whole trip locked in my cabin terrified of bumping into someone I knew.

I survived the voyage and happily lost myself in the comforts and anonymity of the city. Which brings me to now, settling into my new flat.

The flat was on the third floor of a tiny building that boasted a quint tea room on the ground floor which was happy to supply me with meals as I would not be employing any servants. There was bookshop around the corner with the most marvelous selection of corking mysteries novels and a club down the street with seemed to cater to men of a certain persuasion. What comforts the flat lacked was balanced by the neighborhood in which it lay. Yes, I thought staring out the window onto the street, I could be happy here.


End file.
